Willy Wright and the Cololate Factory
by Paz Enai
Summary: What happens when you mix the fantasy of Willy Wonka's factory with the puns and absurdity of Ace Attorney? Well, apparently this! Willy Wonka with 100% More Edgeworth is THIS FIC. Imagine Miles' confusion when he wins a Golden Ticket! Miles POV
1. Observation of a Daily Ritual

**Willy Wright and the Chocolate Factory**

**Chapter1**

**Observation of a Daily Ritual: Miles Edgeworth**

The man was there. Screaming. Gasping. Grasping.

He didn't remember the words, but he knew this scene all too well. The struggle, the fight, then darkness. When he awoke from the darkness...

It was morning, bright light streamed into his room. The same dream. Eating at his mind whenever he was in a time of stress, a time of doubt. How these thoughts constantly circled around in his mind, if only he could free himself of their grasp. But he knew why they circled, he knew that, if the dreams had any meaning, it was to remind him that something terrible had happened in his own life. His own guilt not yet certain. These thoughts... How can one prosecute with such certainty when they are quite possibly guilty of their own crimes?

He shrugged off the thought and arose from bed. He didn't need this right now, there was work to be done. He couldn't stop doing his job every time he had a mere dream. For all he knew it was just a nightmare with no real basis. And the guilty should never be let free, it was an oath he had made. To Whom, though?

He shrugged again and turned on the news to stop the thinking, something he rarely liked to stop, but when the thoughts were on his own self, he often sought other things to occupy his mind with. The first channel that came up was in a commercial, some chocolate company... Golden tickets... He wasn't sure, but flipped over to the 24-7 news channel. Interestingly enough the headlining article was about the very company he had just seen a commercial for.

"Willy Wright's Chocolate Golden Tickets are causing children all over the world to get sugar-mania! Kids are blowing months of allowance on chocolate just for the change to get a ticket! It's sensational!" said one unseen reporter while the camera showed several candy shops with children all fighting for a place in line to purchase the candy.

One flighty candy-man being interviewed came up "It's not right..I-I've seen these kids do things.. It aint right man," Then with a sudden burst of energy he continued, "But MAN is it sure helping business for me during this economic struggle!"

Edgeworth just sighed and turned off the TV, all thoughts of nightmares and murder sufficiently forgotten. With one last look around his place of residence he got up his briefcase and left for the day. When he arrived at his office approximately a half-hour later he was left mounds of evidence to sort through from his various cases. Whatever detectives had dropped off the evidence had done terrible jobs of writing clearly and it took him nearly two hours to sort through all the information he needed before finally depositing each report and photograph in the proper binder.

Unfortunately as soon as he finished this there was a knock on the door followed by a flourish as Detective Gumshoe barged in.

"SIR! I sent you some evidence earlier, but something happened and I need to bring you down to the scene, fast, sir!"

"Yes, I saw your evidence. Along with the evidence from four other detectives. Didn't anyone teach you buffoons how to write clearly? This has been a nightmare to understand," Edgeworth said flapping one such incriminating scrap of notes at Gumshoe.

"Ah, sorry sir, we're all just swamped at the precinct, and all, no time to right clearly when ya gotta write fast, ya know? Heh?" Gumshoe paused to scratch the back of his head defensively, but then snapped back into action, "Anyway sir, we have to go down to the crime scene, something terrible!"

With a sigh Edgeworth got up, took his jacket off the hook and walked up to Gumshoe indicating he lead the way.

At the scene there was a very grumpy old man and his nephew who were stubbornly refusing to let the police continue their investigation, claiming that they were disrespecting private property. Naturally when asked to show proper ownership they failed to procure necessary papers. Edgeworth, already in a less-than-pleasant mood due to his less-than-adequate night's sleep was more-than-happy to immediately slap charges on them for interrupting and disrupting a formal police investigation. After nearly completing all his paperwork on the charges (which he made a habit of taking with him when investigating a scene for just such a purpose), Gumshoe was able to talk him down and the papers were marked "void". As the two men walked away defeated, Edgeworth made a note to himself to be sure to check both men's backgrounds and to how they may be connected to the crime.

Crime scene after crime scene, paperwork after paperwork. It was a long day, and it was starting to weigh down on the prosecutor as his morning's nightmare began to creep back into his mind. He did as best he could to keep busy with casework, but near the end of the day he told all persons that he had much work to do and should not be disturbed in his office for any reason.

Naturally, five minutes later Detective Gumshoe knocked on the door and slowly peered in. Edgeworth knew better than to yell at the man when he was trying to pull off his "puppy-dog eyes", and merely said "Briefly."

"Sir, sorry if I've been stressing you out and stuff today,-"

"You have done no such thing, I just have a rather large caseload, once my desk clears up a bit I'll be fine," He said, trying to maintain his usual aloofness.

"Oh, well.. Anyway, sir... I was just.. Well, I thought maybe you could use something to calm down, and... Well, you probably wont like it, but maybe Pess will, but ..."

"Detective, out with it."

"Well Sir, I just bought you this. I know it's not much, had to practically punt a kid to get it for ya – got bit too, see? Anyway, here ya go Sir," and the Detective handed Edgeworth a bar of chocolate.

Edgeworth looked up questioningly to the Detective, but he was already halfway out the door. Looking back down at the small, rather cheap gift lifted Edgeworth's spirit a bit. He'd never had American candy before, and couldn't imaging it being nearly as good as his usual Swedish variety, but he was still somewhat pleased by the thought and went to put the candy into his coat... Then decided better of it and wrapped it in an evidence bag and put it in his briefcase, lest it should melt all over his things.

It wasn't until Edgeworth had returned home, walked and fed Pess, and was about to read the newspaper before bed until he remembered the earlier news report he had heard that morning. Something about tickets? Golden Tickets?

That was about the time that Edgeworth realized what brand of chocolate Gumshoe had bought for him. Incidentally it was also the time he realized he had a Golden Ticket.

* * *

><p>This is just an introduction into a slice of life from this Miles' life. You will note (eventually) that this takes place in an AU (herpaderp) In this fic Miles is already 27.. And yet, some things will remain intact from the story as we know it...<p>

But which?

(Also I had to delete my last version of this fic for various reasons, so you get all 4 chaps at once today, whee! There will be more.. eventually~~ *is slow*)


	2. Obsessing Over the Little Details

**Willy Wright and the Chocolate Factory**

**Chapter2**

**Obsessing Over the Little Details: Finding Everlasting Youth Inc.  
><strong>

Going to sleep that night had been a chore like none other Edgeworth had faced recently. His anxiety and nervousness about the events to come had forced him to resign on the prospects of going to sleep. Making his way into the living room, he took up a book to pass time until his inevitable departure.

He awoke in his living room at 7AM, book now laying on top of Pess, who was curled up at his feet. This was a late start for him, and if it had been any other day he'd have been late to work, but he didn't have work today. Not by his own decision, mind you, Edgeworth rarely ever missed a day of work, in fact it took rather severe circumstances for such an occurrence to transpire, but this time he'd had no choice. Chief Skye had given him no option.

How absurd it was, being forced by your boss to go on a child's field trip. Edgeworth was seething inwardly. Unfortunately, as much as he had wanted to sell the ticket, or even donate it to a charity, he had been strictly 'advised' to the contrary. These last few weeks before the event had left Edgeworth anxious and angry, to the point where he was almost removed from all active cases, Hell, he'd even asked to be removed. But Chief Skye would hear nothing of it.

"You will do your damned job when I tell you to, and you will take a vacation when I tell you to. You are my employee, and my right hand, and the right hand shall never go against the brain. You need this vacation as much as you need to put in your proper hours beforehand."

Three days. What child's tour lasted three days? Wasn't the old fairy tale method that a child stumbles upon a great new magical realm and has a day to explore, endure, and withstand tests with the final goal being to have learnt something when they make it out at the end? How was this charade even fiscally possible for a chocolate factory of mediocre acclaim? The company, as it was now, had hardly been around for long. Edgeworth had researched into the matter, after all.

In the span of three years the company, amazingly with just one factory, had marked a startling rise to the number-one chocolate-producing company sates-side. It had left Edgeworth wondering when it's cataclysmic fall from power was to happen. He felt that anything that rises that quickly with absolutely no known origin is bound to fail. Where were their stocks, their market shares, their advertising agents and business transactions? Who was the CEO and who reported their financial statements, everything was blank. There was no history other than shipping of chocolate and the receiving of raw food materials. Not even equipment had ever been shipped in and out, or mechanical and building repairs reported. He suspected something to do with criminal activity, but had no means of inquiry to pursue, since his preliminary reports showed nothing of the sort. Though, the misty and shrouded history of the factory in question left room for plenty of interpretation on Edgeworth's part.

With so little literature, he was nearly impossible to learn anything about the factory or the company in question. What he was able to piece together was that the company had risen from the ashes of another company called Finding Everlasting Youth Candies, or FEY Candies, for short. The original brand had been around for several years before the proprietor had somehow vanished. When she had first vanished there had been rumors of murder, but most speculations were inconclusive and no trial was ever reported. Some rumors, mostly found in tabloid papers he was able to find on the internet, had listed potential suspects, or probable cause of two or three people. The first, and most common belief was that another family member, who was hungry for fame and money and wished to inherit the company through various legal loopholes, had snuffed out the late Ms. Fey. The second most common rumor was that of a man later convicted of blackmail who had ties to Ms. Fey. Surprisingly, some others even went to accuse the current owner, Mr. Wright, who other than his current ownership of the factory and company estates, is completely unknown. Some articles even included claims that "Willy" is not his legal first name, though why that should even matter was a perplexity to Edgeworth.

The entire matter both confounded, yet interested Edgeworth. He'd have loved to just talk to the owner, or conduct an investigation of the grounds and records, not for any legal reasons, just for the sake of his own curiosity... Granted he was sure he would find something that he could later get a warrant for, but regardless...

Unfortunately the mess he'd found himself in was anything but ideal. He was to be at the gates at noon, and it was a three hour drive. With a final sigh he got out of his armchair, readied for the day and made sure all his affects were packed and in his car, then took Pess for a walk. When he arrived back at his apartment the boy who was to watch Pess for the week was waiting. Normally Edgeworth wouldn't trust anyone with his belongings, much less his family (which he considered Pess to be a part of) but Franziska had met the boy at university and he had seemed to be pleasant enough that when he moved State-side, and later to LA, Edgeworth had made a principle of getting to know the boy. This, now, would be his third time watching Pess to date. The practice in German conversation was always a refreshment for Edgeworth, too. 'One must keep the mind fit, for everything else to follow suit' he would tell himself.

Unfortunately this time the conversation was short and was to result in a 'vacation' that was creating a feeling of impending doom. A vacation, mind you, that he had no interest in attending. He cursed to himself that he liked his job as much as he did (or the regularity in his life that it created). If he had less fear of change or more confidence in finding new work... he would have taken up Chief Skye's threat to fire him if he didn't attend this debacle...

Unfortunately...

He arrived at the location only 15 minutes prior to the designated time, traffic having been more than he had anticipated. When he arrived, reporters were lined up everywhere to catch a glimpse of the 'Illustrious Mr. Wright' and the 'Enigmatic Final Winner' – the later of which was himself. The second he parked his car in the designated spot, the mass swiftly migrated to it.

"SO SIR! Are YOU the FINAL CONTEST WINNER?"

"..." Edgeworth tried his hardest to glare at the reporter, but the sheer volume of her voice and the proximity of the camera to his face had him nearly leaning against his car to avoid being decked by her excessively long lens. He managed to muster a feeble "If you would mind stepping away from my car it would be most appreciative."

"SIR, Can you ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

"MIND the _car_. It is an IMPORT and I'd prefer it not being scratched! It cost me nearly a _million_ to get it to NY, and then another _4,000_ to have it shipped to this coast. _Thank you_, and _excuse me,_" Edgeworth said, with more control than he expected, and went to turn before stopping to add, "and it has a video surveillance system programmed into it's features. Anything that touches it when it is locked is captured in a series of snapshots. I am a prosecuting attorney and _will_ sue for damages."

With that the woman, and all other reporters, frantically scrambled away from Edgeworth and his car. His minor fib about the surveillance system was greatly overpowered by his sense of pleasure for instantaneously getting all his anger off his chest in one go. With a final tidying up of his suit-jacket and grabbing his luggage bag, Edgeworth headed to the gate.

"So you're the final contestant, huh? You look older than THAT guy! I bet you cant even get around street-side old man, wooo-kayyy," said a jumpy young punk as he pointed to a rather obese man in his mid-thirties.

The man, who mind you was thereby at least 10 years older than Edgeworth, was taking snapshots and writing in a book mumbling something about a show, or a plot. He was very animated in his work until he saw a young girl and went rather disturbingly googly-eyed.

The young girl in question was near the gate crying and hysterically demanding to know why 'Regent' could not come with her into the factory. The officer seemed to be rather nervous about something and was sweating bullets while trying to calm the young girl down.

After this 30 second analysis, Edgeworth concluded that he was probably the only sane person in this little group, and resigned a sigh. This was going to try his patience, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>On the forums I post these there are theories about that German boy, THEORIES.. Too bad it's not pivotal to the plot! (they think it's Gavin. In actuality... it was meant as a random OC that wasn't important.. I like the Gavin Theory better. Too bad it wasn't mine ._.; )<p> 


	3. Impertinence in Patience

**Willy Wright and the Chocolate Factory**

**Chapter3**

**Impertinence in Patience  
><strong>

An hour had passed since the designated arrival time. The reporters had all begun a frantic sweat, knowing that their big scoop was rapidly becoming a flop. The atmosphere would have been rather tense, if not for the insane absurdity of the other contest winners.

After the first twenty minutes Edgeworth had sat on a bench by the gate of the factory and opened up his luggage to pull out his briefcase. He hadn't much work left to handle, as his cases had all ended right before his departure, but there was always something that needed re-writing, or organization. Unfortunately the young punk had come over almost immediately after Edgeworth had taken a seat and began by leaning over his lap to try to see what he was working on.

"Beg your pardon, but do you _mind? _I am trying to work." Edgeworth said in a clipped tone

"HEY YO, man no need to be all defensive, who do you think you are, some high-class Europhile prince, or something?.. What'cha working on anyway, oldy?" The boy was clearly bored

Edgeworth slammed his file shut firmly between his hands and cast a vitriolic glare firmly at the punk in question, who reeled noticeably. Unfortunately, he also recovered quickly, but before he could open his mouth, Edgeworth spoke with clipped precision. "For your prodigious and cosmopolitan sense of enlightenment, I will have you know that I am, in fact, twenty-seven -Hardly very old at all. Now, if you would-"

"BIZZAM, No way pops! You got yourself way too much grey hair and wrinkles to be that young," He said about to poke Edgeworth in the face to indicate such a feature. "So stop flipping my coin and-"

Quickly scooting from his position in order to evade the hand, and amplifying the look of derision at the boy, Edgeworth supplied, "The name is Miles Edgeworth, and I would [i]kindly[/i] request that you leave me be. If all we have planned at this gate is to sit by and waste time, then I can work on my own things in the available time. I don't require your incessant badgering." Once he finished this short tirade he returned to his previous position and let out an exasperated sigh. Rubbing his forehead a moment he again made to open his file and resume working.

Briefly.

"Well, tshh! You know who I am? I am the OG, pops! I'm Wocky Kitaki, and I don't just get pushed off to the side by guys like you, I face everything head-on, and since those chumps is buzy buzzing the boiz in blue, guess _you_ get stuck with me!.. BIZZOOOYYY."

Edgeworth tried to work through Kitaki's monologue, but as he spoke his mannerisms, demeanor, vocabulary and... name, suddenly became cogs churning away in his thoughts. Edgeworth knew that name, every fool in a law-related profession probably knew that name. The Kitaki family didn't necessarily keep themselves too hidden. After all, with an empire like that, who needs to.

Edgeworth also remembered that the Kitaki main line was alleged to have a son... But the only few times Edgeworth himself had ever heard of the boy was due to reckless and trifling scraps and minor violations. Nothing nearly as bad as any other branches of the family. It was actually something of a joke in the precinct that with the new line of blood, the Kitaki branch would curl under itself in a few years. A few even joked that their next industry to overtake would be something such as confectioneries... But, even still, if this boy was indeed a Kitaki, Edgeworth had to tread very lightly around him. Last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of a criminal mastermind – Big Wins Kitaki.

Kitaki continued to talk about various things in such a way that Edgeworth was unsure if he was talking about candy, the factory or something completely unrelated. He resigned to himself the fact that he just wasn't going to get anything accomplished in this time and put away his effects and looked off in the direction of the young girl who had been sobbing uncontrollably for the last fifteen minutes.

Truth to be told, Edgeworth hated to see her so upset, and did wish he could help but... there are some things he was good at, and many things he knew he was not so adept. And nearly all of those things he was not skilled with involved or encompassed human interaction. The girl would have to cope on her own for now...

This was naturally the point that she decided to open her eyes and saw Edgeworth looking her way. His nerves skyrocketed as he looked for something else to do, but it was too late, right as Wocky explained the best way to hotwire a car – or was that a boat – she had practically leaped into his lap.

"HELP ME! This is so unfair! They took away my lovely Regent! HOW COULD THEY?" She sputtered, leaning close enough to his face to lick it if she had tried. Which thankfully she did not.

"HOW, but you were- THAT'S TWENTY METERS AT- GHHK!" Edgeworth Stammered as he tried to lean as far back as he could, but her face was in his, tears streaming relentlessly.

"Hey, yo, if you dunt like my story, I mean GEEZE. Heya there circus-head, I was telling a story."

"But it's to terrible, how can you tell a story now!" she said spinning away from Edgeworth to face Kitaki, who immediately realized it was a bad decision to open his mouth in the first place. She spun again to face... nothing in particular and continued, "Something as refined and sophisticated as my lovely Regent should never be kept away from it's mother! He needs to experience this factory as much as I do! It's not like he'll bite anyone!" With a flourish she faced Kitaki again and finished dramatically, slumping down on the seat a little too close to Edgeworth. "He's just a baby tiger anyway, what harm can he do! He's not even 200lb yet! Besides it's not like he'll eat the chocolate, he doesn't like chocolate! ITS NOT FAIR!"

Edgeworth's desire to help the poor child was rapidly diminishing as her proximity made it somewhat impossible to cope with her frantic demonstrations and protestations. He became somewhat aware that she was not able to say a single word without some over-exaggerated motion and it became something of a health concern to be this close to her. But try as he could to stand, her flails made it hard to retreat. Briefly looking over to the Kitaki boy he realized that he wasn't the only one concerned for his safety.

R_ather odd, _he thought_, that the son of a well-known gangster family would have the reserve to not react violently to this, though I do suppose he only did so much as ramble to myself..._ Edgeworth wasn't a fool, and knew that normally his behavior set off people, yet even this boy, of a distinct family had not noticeably reacted, just rebounded. _A pity that a person so able to deflect my demeanor would be one I least desire to associate with..._

In trying to look for something else to focus her attention on, he made the startling realization that there were no trailers or animal transport vehicles anywhere in the lot. Without realizing as much, he scoffed "Someone dropped off a petit girl and a tiger in a populated area and left? How novel."

The girl silenced briefly to say, "No one dropped us off, I drove in that car with Regent! I got my license a few weeks ago see?" And she showed him her license.

Naturally he scrutinized it, as she seemed somewhat too young to be driving unaccompanied, but there it was: Regina Berry, 19 years old, 5'3", blond hair blue eyes. He took is all in quickly and made a mental note to find out what manner of parent allows their child to drive with a tiger in their backseat. He then realized, at this rate, by the time this excursion was concluded he would have so many mental notes he could write a novel. _How unfortunate_.

With Regina somewhat calmed, Edgeworth managed to make his escape from the bench and took a few paces to the left. He didn't see the need to retreat much farther than that. Now more calm, Wocky and Regina were attempting to have a normal conversation. Sighing in relief, danger of social pretenses past, he decided to scan his surroundings once again.

It was then that Edgeworth realized that he was at least spared the company of one of the other contest winners. From the man's mumbling about Pink Princess and Steel Samurai. Miles was most pleased that the man had never approached. Now, Edgeworth could admit to himself that he wouldn't be surprised for people his age to be able to appreciate the show, granted the program was intended for a younger audience. As far as he could see, the show made a point to keep many plot elements and themes very close to the troubles facing many adults. So naturally, in all other circumstances, he wouldn't hold this against a person. But one look at this man just shrieked at Edgeworth to avoid this slobbering fanboy at all costs. He envisioned the man reeking of basement and too much snacks and video games, and would rather not be anywhere near the man. It wasn't until much later that he would come to know who, in fact, this man truly was.

Then, from around the corner of an abandoned postal office, came the sound of a bike.

* * *

><p>This title is a verbal pun... Kinda... I like it (at the very least it's confusing when you say it out loud XD)<p> 


	4. The Man, the Myth the Rumor

**Willy Wright and the Chocolate Factory**

**Chapter4**

**The Man, the Myth, the Rumor...  
><strong>

At first no one but Edgeworth seemed to notice the sound of pedals and the chain working at the gears, but soon the reporters and the other winners began to look for the source. Miles followed the man around the corner of the post office and watched as he drove past all the contestants and reporters in a blur, stopping at the gates.

When he got off his bike, to place and lock it against the fence, Miles took full stock of his preposterous wardrobe. The man, possibly about Edgeworth's age and height was wearing a long-tailed vibrant-purple jacket, an oversized brown top hat, and striped blue and fuchsia pants. From the looks of him he'd been wearing the same clothes for a several days consecutively (or alternatively sleeping in them) as the jacket was wrinkled beyond reason. The hat had the appearance of being sat on a few times in it's lifetime and the pants appeared to be a touch too short, as the man had pulled up his socks to fill the parts where the pants didn't quite cover. There was scrapes and minor tears on many of the seams and elbows and knees, but in light of this the man was whistling quite contently to himself.

With the bike secured to the gate he began to fumble in his pockets and began sorting though what must have been hundreds of miniature keys of every shape size and color. Edgeworth, even at such a distance and with his poor far-sight, wanted to question that some of the keys weren't, in fact, children's toys or made of plastic.

Everyone stood frozen in place for a time, watching as the man fumbled through his pockets to uncover another key ring, then another. Finally he finds the key that he was looking for and begins to sing the ending of his song.

"Present evidence as your aid an yell, yell ye~ll," with that final 'yell' he pokes the key into the lock shouting "Objection!"just as the gate begins to swing open.

As if on cue, the reporters and journalists realize that this man must, in fact, be connected with the factory (as opposed to some drunken vagrant) and flock to the man shouting over each other creating the perfect cinematographer's "wawa" audio rabble.

The man, who until now has somewhat managed to both keep his face hidden and remain oblivious to their presence, turns revealing his full facial features. For an instant, Miles thinks that he recognizes the man, but can't seem to place where. Shrugging it off as just another person he probably convicted (a more common scenario than he ever liked to admit) he decides to take a back seat and watch as the scene unfolds.

The reporters eventually calm enough that individual questions can be heard and they all silence to see if an answer is to be made. The man seems more confused than anything and instead just replied to their questions with the "5 w's"

"HEY, mister, " the woman reporter that had the far-reaching lens pointed in Miles' face shouts out, "What are you so confused about, don't you work at this factory?"

The man looks beyond the gate and then back a them "Oh this is a factory? I thought I lived here? Uhm, why? What are all of you doing out here anyway, this town's pretty dead, I mean..." He looked to the post office he had just passed moments before and scratched his head just below the hat, "Why would anyone want to come here?"

No one seems to know how to answer any of those questions, so as quickly as their excitement boomed the reporters lost all their steam, their scoop certainly a flop after all.

Everyone seemed content to throw in the towel, move on to the next step – deciding what to do from here. But to Miles this was a cause of infuriation. He had been forced against his will to go on a vacation he didn't want by a supervisor with special hold over him and was removed from all active cases just to see a hobo with toys? Not on his watch. Not today.

Quickly and pointedly Miles approached the gate right as the man went to turn and enter.

"I have your answer, and you will answer it in kind," Miles said with words that would otherwise have been pleasant enough, if not for his dangerously demanding delivery of them. "Are you the eccentric, small-time factory-owning fool who sent out four pointless golden tickets wrapped beneath the covers of your mediocre chocolates as a way to boost sales? Or are you in fact here to let those contest winners actually do something with their time, rather than sit around and waste their lives when there is work that could be taken care of and completed?"

Everyone, as earlier, took a step back from Edgeworth.

All but the eccentric purple-faring man, who actually turned to better face Edgeworth with an increasingly confused look on his face.

"Huh? Golden tickets?"

Edgeworth solidified his unrelenting gaze by crossing his arms across his chest and squarely planting himself in front of the man. All the man offers as a response is to look down rubbing his chin as his eyes became unfocused, the gears slowly shaking off their rust.

Spinning suddenly and taking a quick hop to the main gate-post the purple-clad man removes a loose panel and clicks a telecom button hidden within.

Suddenly a young female voice with a bit too much of a sugary ring shouts out "Whatsup Wills? Back already?"

"Heya Maya, what's todays date?"

"Uhm, I dunno? Where's your calendar again?" and rustling noises could be heard

"Wait, are you in my office?"

"Oh uhm, hhe AH here it is, OH NICK! TODA Y YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE THAT GOLDEN THING! Oops, guess we forgot!"

While the reporters suddenly dash forth, once again rejuvenated by the potentiality of a scoop, Miles makes his way to the side while making two distinct observations from the short exchange he just herd. Firstly, this man had initially said that he had lived here, implied, even, that it wasn't a factory at all, but they mention then they understood the premise of the golden tickets and the fact state that he has an office inside. Those would be otherwise unnecessary things to hide, so why had they been hidden, wasn't this Golden Ticket fiasco public news? So why hide it now?

Secondly this "Maya" had just referred to the purported Mr Wright as two distinct names. Miles took it for what it was worth – for now – as he wasn't sure what relevance that had to anything at present. But he made the decision that it was time to use his phone to keep notes, as the mental ones were likely to become distorted rather quickly. Judging from the questions from the reporters, he assumed none of them had yet picked up on either of these little factoids, but at present he wasn't sure if it even mattered. It was just something he did often at work, find and overcome contradictions. And in law, they were ever present.

After being bombarded by the reporters for nearly 30 seconds 'Mr. Wright' replies somewhat sardonically "Well, if I wanted everyone to know what I was planning, I would have just set up a line at the door for a paid admission... Hahah?"

The awkwardness of the statement makes the reporters go silent, yet again. But this time they all glance nervously around. So the story is true, there is a special trip about to happen, the man in charge of it is quite possibly insane and they can't learn anything about it... or him...

The story is a flop after all.

At this resounding silence, the ever-odd 'Mr Wright' takes advantage of his chance to finally halfway escape beyond the barely open gate.

"So uh.. why don't the contest winners come in now?" With his head poking around the metal gate. "Oh, but I need your tickets, or you cant come in...?" He sad unsurely.

Taking his moment of uncertainty at full, Regina rushes him, resuming her waterworks, "Please, may I bring in Regent? I promise he wont eat your candies! He's a good tiger, really!"

"Did he win a golden ticket?"

Her barely begun tears stop suddenly on her cheeks, "Well...n-no?"

"Then I guess he cant, you need a golden ticket to enter. Besides, he'd probably eat Charley..."

"Ch-charley?"

"Yeah, well, that or Maya, Maya's pretty small, I bet he'd eat her. And she's like.. my assistant or something. I'm not really sure, actually. Sometimes she seems to make my work harder, you know, getting stuck in the weird metallic clunky … things … all over the place-"

"Do you mean the equipment?" Miles interjected somewhat startled.

"Uhm, yeah I guess they are machines, or something. I don't actually know how they work?"

The man just shrugged and continued, "Anyway to get in you need a ticket and I guess if you have luggage you'll probably need that, but I don't have those fancy cart-things you see at high-end hotels-"

"You mean a dolly? Any hotel has those..."

"Well whatever, the places _I _stay at don't have them, so clearly you stay at fancier places, Mr Has-a-Nicer-Suit-Than-Me... Nice color by the way, is that mauve, or burgundy?"

Miles, put on the spot and not sure how to react, faltered in place. Quickly he decided it was time to change the topic "Golden Tickets and luggage... then?"

"YUP! Yeh get your stuff quickly so I can lock this gate and all, cant have anything escaping, it's kinda like- I shouldn't have it open this long, actually. Maya's probably watching the camera's and yelling at me on the screens..."

_Escaping? I thought it was to keep peddlers OUT?_ Miles looked to his effects by the bench and watched as the other contestants start gathering their things in a bit of a haze. Half the reporters now gone, the other half getting whatever footage they still can. _Perhaps I can sell-... Lana would be furious... I would loose all my cases for at least a month... among... other things..._

Edgeworth put his head in his hand, hoping against hope that this was all just a dream but futilely knowing that it wasn't. He was aware that some minor conversations were going on around him, but was unable to really care or listen. He was gathering all his will to try to leave, knowing the outcome, but also fearing the result of if he stayed.

Suddenly a gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder, causing him to jolt uncomfortably.

It was Mr Wright.

"Hey, look, I can tell you are on edge, and all, but show me what you're worth and lets get moving."

The man then turned and pulled out his keys again, having shut the others in on the other side of the gate to go fetch him. Miles gathered his belongings somberly.

Had he just done that on purpose, or was that just a coincidence?

Who is this man...

And why could Edgeworth not shake the feeling that he had know him from somewhere?

* * *

><p>This chapter title is based off the phraseline-from-a-movie "The man, the myth the legend" except since Willy isnt a legend it's more of a rumor...arent I smurt? (not really) MOVING ALONG...

Here I have to apologize for writing "Mr. Wright" kinda somewhere between Hobo and Attorney, he is too fast-spoken for hobo!Nick, but he's too Maya!logic for Attorney!Nick... apparently my friend likes this, I think it's just OOC, but whatevs. Also Miles.. does he know Wright in this AU? or not! DUN DUN DUN. Either way "Wright" is a fairly common last name.

OH, and that song Phoenix is singing? It's an actual line from the Turnabout Musical song expertly named "the Objection Song" check it out, they have a free digital download of their Highlights CD on their site pwmusical (dot) com _ITS REALLY AWESOME /not a biased Art Director at all what are you talking about_/


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